Of Uncanny Intuition and Frozen Chocolate Sprinkles
by Vestina
Summary: A moment. In Time. About them. A Janie and Cable one shot.


Author's Note: Howdy! (The universal hello, except not really.) Anywhoodle, thanks for actually reading what I write instead of just skipping to the bottom and pretending to read this... Moving right along. My disclaimer is this: I am not Lisa McMann, nor could I ever pretend to be such a fabulous writer. All I can only aspire to use her characters and hope to all great deities that they are not OOC. Please enjoy! As always, your comments and reviews are always highly appreciated!

He barely acknowledges her presence when she slams through his back door, only a small nod, something that irks her ever so slightly. His back is to her, slaving over a skillet on the stove.

"Well, hello to you too," she mutters sarcastically under her breath.

"Did someone just say something?" Even with his face turned from her, she can sense his smirk.

"You're such a dickface sometimes, Cabe."

He turns to look at her. Finally. "Do you want eggs? They're scrambled."

"Just like your brain?"

"I'm not answering that. Do you want these or not? They're going to get cold."

She sighs. "No thanks. But I'd like a glass of milk."

He snorts. "Sure, just get it yourself."

She pouts. "Cabe..."

"What's with the puppy dog act today?" he asks, grinning. "You're usually the spitting image of a fucking bad ass ninja dreamcatcher."

She sighs, her head dropping into her hands, her hair falling around her. "I dunno. It's that time of the month?"

"You used that excuse on me last week when you didn't want to go grocery shopping."

"Damnit," she laughs. "Nothing gets past you, does it?"

"How else could I be the best fucking undercover cop in the state? But seriously, What's wrong Janie?"

She's a bit startled when he uses her name. It's something she still hasn't quite gotten used to. Being noticed isn't exactly something she's familiar with. Hell, it wasn't something she wanted to be familiar with. Not until him.

"There's nothing wrong, Cabe," she lies smoothly.

He opens the refrigerator, pulling out the pink carton of skim milk. "You still want some?"

She nods gratefully. She knows that he doesn't believe a word of her bullshit; he understands her moods well enough to realize better.

He flings the cupboard wide with his elbow, making it catch on the handle to force it open. Grabs a green coke glass, one of the dozen she picked out at a garage sale for him awhile back when she discovered he had a total of ten dishes in his house. Turns out drunk fathers like to smash things.

He fills the glass with milk, nearly to the tippy top, where it teeters on the rim, ready to spill over the edge. He takes a long swallow before handing it over.

"Hey!" she complains, but he just wiggles his eyebrows at her. Sits down and slides the glass across the table at her with a low whooshing sound as it scrapes against the paneled wood. She glares. "Consider it your tip."

"That's all I get? My hard labor deserves more." He leans back, his arms behind his head, stretching, his back pressed into the slats of the chair.

She sips the milk carefully. "What more could you want? I'm kinda poor at the moment. Captain doesn't pay me until Friday."

He laughs through his nose, rolling his eyes and lazily running his fingers through his hair, mussing it up.

She's thinks it's kind of sexy.

And she's kind of hoping what he wants is something dirty. Because she's not gonna lie that she needs a little bit of distraction.

And hell yes, he's a beautiful distraction.

But now she's realizing that he's not answering her. "Cabe?"

He stands again, getting a cheap china plate from the cupboard, little pink and blue roses intertwined on the rim. He fishes in the drawer, the utensils clanging against each other. Yanks a spatula from the tangle and uses it to scrape up the steaming eggs.

"Seriously, what's wrong?" he asks, his back to her, slight exasperation, but she can hear his fucking ever-present, perfect patience skirting underneath.

And it almost makes her want to cry. Because what she's got locked inside her doesn't matter at this moment. Not when he's here.

Because hell knows she doesn't deserve this. Him.

She feels her throat constricting. "Damnit Cabe!"

"What?" he asks, his voice getting louder. "You think I don't have a fucking right to know what's going on?"

"I didn't say that!"

"Then why don't you tell me?"

She stares at him. Bites her lip. "Because I'm not a problem you can fix."

"Damn straight you aren't, Janie! Because you're a hell of more than that!" His face falls, a little more compassion shimmers though. He's quiet. Stares at her long and hard, so intently that she has to look away. When he speaks, his voice is softer, less accusing. "Where was it?"

"What?" Pretends to have no idea what he's talking about.

"Where did you get sucked in?"

She doesn't ask how he knows; realizes she wasn't thinking straight when she thought she could keep things from him. Not that what's bothering her matters all that much.

"The grocery store. Some autistic toddler fell asleep in his cart."

"And you couldn't pull out?"

She leans to the right, resting her temple on the tips of her fingers. "It was kind of like being in Henry's head. All those colors and none of them made sense. Like I was falling into a tornado made of rainbows."

He smiles at her metaphor, but she knows it's only to try to make her feel better. "Oh no," he murmurs sarcastically. "Not a gay autistic boy..." She smiles, knowing he couldn't care less about sexual orientation. Dips her head down so her hair shields her face. "Hey," he coaxes, tipping her chin up gently with the tips of his fingers. "I didn't mean to make a joke out of this. I just wanted to hear you laugh."

"Damnit! Why do you have to be so fucking sweet, Cabel? How do you fucking expect me to stay mad at you?"

"I don't." And then he's across the table and kissing her, and she feels like she's drowning in him, in everything, in his warmth and the taste of him, and how he feels. Like everything that happened is being blotted from her mind.

There's a prickle in the back of her mind telling her that this is stupid; that after all this time, she should be able to handle something like this by herself.

And then he's pulling his lips away from hers, wiping tears from her face that she didn't even realize were there. Digs his hands through her hair to pull it away from her face. "Fuck, Janie."

"You want to?" she asks, shamefully hopeful.

"What?"

"Fuck!"

He groans. "Janie."

She looks at him, up through her lashes, running her fingers down his shirt. "Please."

"Are you high?"

"Like I need to be on drugs to go trippin'. All I'd have to do is slip you some chamomile tea, and 'poof' I'm in lala land!"

"You sure you're not there now?"

"Very. Oh Cabe, I'm just kidding. Although, I'd like to point out, you haven't said no yet."

"Can I say it now?" he murmurs into the neck, gently biting the skin under her ear.

"If you can," she answers running her finger up the curve of his neck and into the hairs at the base of his scalp.

"No." He pulls back. "Not tonight."

She untangles herself from around him. "How did I know you'd say that?"

"You've been a little weird tonight, Darling. You pretend what that happened wasn't as big deal. That you are bothered by the fact that there are still dreams out there that could beat you. But damnit Janie, who the hell wouldn't be affected by that? I know you're strong, but that's not the point! Damnit, I'm angry that you didn't call me to pick you up! I'm angry you took the bus and then had to walk the half-mile from 5th St! Do you really still not trust me?"

"I'm sorry," she whispers. And he backs down a little. Because she knows he knows he went a little too far. "Of course I trust you, but it was something I had to do by myself."

"I know."

A silent pause.

"So... that ice cream place next to the grocery store just opened. Wanna check it out?"

He smiles. "Are you paying?"

She glares. "Fine. But you get a kiddie cone."

They slam the back door behind them, clambering into Cabel's car, him in the driver's seat, her in the passengers, and skirt down the driveway narrowly avoiding the garbage can at the end of the road.

They belt obnoxiously, singing to the oldies station that plays one of her favorite 60's tunes.

And bouncing up the drive into the parking spot, she pulls him down and kisses him until the song on the radio changes and she realizes how hard it is to sing and kiss and laugh at the same time.

Even if it feels perfect to do all three.

He pulls her hand and tugs her out of her leather seat and across the parking lot, weaving between the yellow lines and in through the slow-moving entry door.

The parlor inside smells like cotton candy, sweet and perfect. She presses her nose to the glass window, the cool condensation making her spine shiver. He wraps an arm around her waist. the other dancing between her fingers.

"What flavor do you want?" he murmurs, and admittedly it's rather sexy.

"Do I have to pay for you?" she wines softly, craning her neck to stare up into his eyes.

"A mint-chocolate chip," he says over Janie's shoulder to the pretty blond girl with a little too much makeup at the register. According to the name pin on her blue apron, she's Andie. And also very fond of the pumpkin-cinnamon swirl. "What size?" she drawls, obviously bored.

Cabel leans down toward Janie, releasing her waist. "Wanna split?" She nods in answer, and he glances back up, toward the blonde girl again. "Extra large. With those chocolate sprinkles."

"Pick it up at the next window."

Five or so odd minutes later, they have two plastic spoons and enough ice cream in one bowl to feed an entire army of ants. They find a cozy table in the corner; its curved iron legs wobble in the caulking of the floor.

Cabel hits his head on the low hanging light as he sits down, making her smile. "You think me getting hurt is funny?"

"Serves you right for being so tall."

"Because I have so much control over it," he responds sarcastically. Dips his spoon into the green mountain of sugar, sprinkles falling off the sides. When he bites down, it crunches loudly. "Shit, these sprinkles are frozen!"

Stares at him, smiling because he always seems to get himself into these situations. "Oh, Babe. You okay there?"

"I'll make do."

She sticks her spoon in the bowl, making it bend under the weight of the ice cream. Pops it in her mouth. "Thanks for buying."

He stares at her blandly. "How could I resist those puppy eyes?"

"You've done a pretty good job in the past."

He shrugs, crunching on frozen sprinkles again. "Maybe I just wanted to make you happy."

She dips her head. "When you say cheesy things like that it makes me want to curl up in a corner."

"Do I really make you that uncomfortable?"

She shakes her head. "No. You make me that happy."

"Good. I wouldn't want to let you down."

"Only when you get chocolate sprinkles."

Thanks, as always, for reading! Please comment with your thoughts; not only do they make me better, but they brighten my day! (Oh, that was cheesy and stereotypical and how everyone ends one-shots...)


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